


Babylon

by romanticalgirl



Series: Some Deep Mystery [2]
Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 12/5/00</p>
    </blockquote>





	Babylon

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 12/5/00

If I get drunk enough, maybe it’ll all change. That’s what I thought. I mean, I’ve done everything else I can to get you out of my head. But you’re still there, still lurking in the corners of my mind. What am I supposed to do here? What exactly would you have me do to rectify this situation?

I’ve been mean to you. I’ve insulted you, your abilities, your friendships. Of course, that’s how he treated you a large percentage of the time, so maybe that’s what turns you on. But I see the look on your face when I say these things and it’s not the look of a woman in love. Bu then, I don’t think either of us would mistake you for that where I’m concerned.

So I’ve spent the night doing everything in my power to undermine all my purposes. It’s sort of ridiculous, or it would be if I weren’t the person so intrinsically involved with where this is going. I’ve done everything. I tried. I pissed you off, I hurt you, I deliberately pushed Dawson into the arms of a fairly willing young woman right in front of you.

I berated you. And yet you’re still here. You’re still looking at me with those eyes. Only now, I don’t imagine I see anything more than disappointment. Do you know how much that pisses me off? Can’t you take a stand? Can’t you hate me so that I can just pretend this never happened? Fade out of your life and go on with mine? I don't need my heart to survive. You can have the shattered pieces, even if you have no clue that you’re holding them. Just say it.

Tell me to get out of your life. Tell me I’m worthless. Repeat all the words I’ve grown so used to hearing. If you say them, if you mean them, I know I’ll have the strength to walk away. Maybe you can just tell me that you love him? Dawson or AJ or whoever you choose. I don’t care who it is, as long as it’s not me. Tell me that it still matters to you what he does, what he wants. Then I can walk away without trying, without failing.

Without falling in love.

Except it’s too late for me. Save yourself from my humiliation. Maybe that’s the tact I should take. Maybe that’s what I should use to convince you, if only I could say the words. I’m still having trouble with the words.

Except in the jail cell. I didn’t seem to have any trouble then, did I? Do you know how it killed me to see your face when I went off on my rant? Trust me that the alcoholic revenge I suffered through immediately after had nothing to do with booze and everything to do with how very much I was sick of myself. I want to save you from me.

Won’t you help me? Won’t you?

In the quiet after you’d all gone, I hoped that I’d done the right thing. I sat there in my semi-drunken stupor and prayed to whatever gods would listen that I would have cured you of your friendship with me. If nothing else, I hoped I opened your eyes about Dawson and sent you scrambling back into his arms. I’m sure that was his plan somewhere down the line, even if I ruined it all by falling in love with you.

I guess I truly am a screw up, only I’ve graduated from just screwing up my life to doing it to everyone else’s. The worst thing is that I’m torn. I’m torn between saving you and saving myself. Saving you means walking away, maybe hurting you. Can I do that, even for your own good? I tried tonight and I think all I succeeded in doing was hurting myself.

Seeing you with that pain in your eyes was like torturing myself. But saving me means telling you everything. Confessing and saying the words that will ruin everything. You and me included. Do I have a choice? I wonder, to be honest. Doug tells me that I have to tell her, go to her, say the words because this doesn’t happen often and I don’t have the right to let you go.

But how do I go to you without the false bravado of alcohol and confess these things? Without the chemicals in my blood that make the words seem less dangerous, how do I say what I’m feeling? How do I look at you and see you smiling at me, how do I hope when I don’t have any excuse to use when you ruin me?

I want to. Will you listen to my confession and absolve me of my sins? Will you forgive me for falling for you? Forgive me for ruining everything? What do I have to say or do to make it all go away? Wash my sins away for me. Tell me you hate me. Tell me that you don’t want to see me again. Tell me.

Tell me. Please?

Don’t sin with me. As much as I ask you, as much as I might beg you with my eyes, don’t say that you feel the same, don’t bring us both down with my actions. Don’t ask me what I want to say, what I need to say. Accept the lies I give you instead, accept them and hang onto them.

We’re dangling dangerously here. I’m barely holding on, almost ready to let go. Be the strength that I need to keep from giving in. You’ve captured my heart. I’ve given up on that. I can’t let go of my head. If I do, it’s lost. I’m lost. You’re lost to me.

I see you laugh as it all comes together, you start to understand things that are wrapped up in my lie. How nice that my lie provides you with something – comfort? Safety? Lies of your own? You smile and it’s all right again, for now. We’re finally getting somewhere. And I’m going nowhere.


End file.
